 | essayindex poemindex |
- Fallen from Grace, Severed from Grace
- Pitfalls
- Love Looks you Straight in the Eye
- When the Unthinkable , post 9-11-01
- Safety in Numbers?
- I Must do it Now
- Got it all Together—Not!
- Jesus is Lord
- We Shall All be Changed
- Getting out of Bed
- I didn’t even See
- Begins at Home
- The Hedge has been Breached
- The Mighty has Fallen; 9-11-01
- Is there Deja Vu in Heaven?
- The Bench-Warmers
- Fears Within
- More than a Patch
- Taste Grace
- I Run to You
- Truth, Straight Up
- It’s Enough to Make You Blush
- Morning Joy
- Mine, Mine, Mine!
To fall from grace, according to Webster's dictionary, is to fall into disfavor with someone or to fall into sin. But stop now and read Galatians 5 as if you are reading it for the first time. As Paul writes, to "fall from grace" seems not to mean choosing to sin or falling into sin, but rather choosing deliberately to walk in our own strength, keeping the Law, relying on our own righteousness and power instead of relying on God’s grace to keep us. Of course, John 15 is the context of the second poem.
Fallen from Grace
Facing moss-covered rocks
and steep, barren cliffs,
yet somehow, neither
sliding nor stumbling;
We were so weak and green,
with only strength enough to lean.
And that little strength was enough.
But now, we feel stronger,
with our "do’s" and "don’ts" checklist;
we let go of grace
and grab our own rope.
It frays and we tumble;
it breaks and we plummet.
Our home-make rope failed
and we fell.
We still wonder why.
***
Severed from Grace
Young, tender branch,
content to be a very small part
of the Vine.
Surprised at the fruit,
then pleased,
and then proud.
We pick ourselves up,
walk away from the Vine.
We struggle, yet wither;
We strain, how we try!
But we never figured out
why we shriveled and died.
Lori Fiechter
11-20-01
(Psalm 27:11)
Pitfalls
I am afraid to walk;
There are pitfalls everywhere,
at both extremes
and in the middle.
Hidden pitfalls,
unapparent.
The path looks innocent enough,
harmless enough,
And yet, beneath the surface,
the pitfall.
Pitfalls in changing;
pitfalls in the status quo.
Is there a safe path
anywhere?
A plain path,
anywhere?
Lord, lead me there.
A light, a lamp;
a sighted guide.
And, when I need it,
a ladder
to climb back out.
Lori Fiechter
December 1, 2001
Love Looks you Straight in the Eye
Love looks you straight in the eye;
gets its hands dirty,
cleaning up wounds,
pouring in oil and wine.
Love doesn't worry what
others might think;
It gets messy,
but stays pure inside.
Adoration gazes up,
condescension peers down
But love looks you
straight in the eye.
Lori Fiechter
11-19-01
Proverbs states that in the multitude of counselors, there is wisdom. But does that mean that there is always safety in numbers? Remember the story of Elijah vs. the 450 prophets of Baal?I recall a favorite saying, "If 10,000 people do a stupid thing, it is still a stupid thing"
Safety in Numbers?
"Safety in
numbers"
seems logical.
But not if the other guys
have guns to your arrows.
Not if the masses are
going the wrong way
on the wrong road.
What good is plenty of
company on a sinking ship?
Safety is not always
in numbers.
Safety is being on
the right side,
on the right road,
and with the One
who can save.
Right, not might,
right?
Lori Fiechter
October 25, 2001
"My time is not yet come: but your time is
alway ready."
"And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of
sleep…"
"Now is the accepted time…"
"Redeeming the time, for the days are evil"
"…Thou art my God. My times are in thy hands."
I Must do it Now
I must do it now
before I forget,
Before daily pressures
crowd in like sardines;
I must do it now
while I have time and strength,
before my hourglass
drains to the last
grain of sand.
I must do it now
for tomorrow is uncertain,
more uncertain than I’d
dreamed a tomorrow could be.
Those things that matter most,
I must do them now,
"I love you"
"I’m sorry"
"Forgive me".
"I was wrong".
(And yes, I’ll make
time to help you
with that 2,000 piece puzzle).
Lori Fiechter
October 23, 2001
Jesus is Lord
Someday, we’ll all say those words:
"Jesus is Lord"
We’ll say them while kneeling
or flat on our face.
We’ll say them in reverence,
and repeat them in heaven
or else in despair
on our way down to hell.
But say them we will
And we’ll mean them as well;
Yet, it will be too late for some.
Say them now—mean them now!
Say, "Jesus is Lord!"
Pray, "Jesus, be my Lord as well"
For someday you’ll bow
and someday, you’ll mean it;
Someday, you’ll wish
you’d the sense to believe it
While there was still time and grace.
So why not make "someday", today?
Lori Fiechter
September 22, 2001
Our lawn mower was vibrating so noisily today that the thought entered my mind, "I am going to be so deaf that I won't even be able to hear that last trump." Instantly, I realized my error. No, I will be able to hear it. Even the completely deaf—believers--will hear.
We Shall All be Changed
(I Corinthians 15:51, Philippians 3:21)
The deaf will hear the trumpet;
The blind will see His face.
The bedridden will stand up on their feet.
Bones and ashes form new bodies
and shoot up to the sky
like backwards lightning.
(like backwards lightning)
Gone--the fear of pain and death,
the pang of separation.
Gone--the everpresent stress,
our cares and tribulations.
Gone--the burden of our nature,
our tendency to sin.
For we shall all be changed:
In that glorious instant;
We shall all be changed
to be like Him.
Lori Fiechter
October 2, 2001
On those days when I have a hard time getting up, when the warm covers are just too inviting and the world too cold, I need to remember those who cannot get out of bed, ever again, on their own volition. Yes, I’m thankful that I can still get out of bed and do whatever is my lot to do today.
Getting out of Bed
Some days, the hardest task
is merely to drag myself
out of bed to face the world:
to face uncertainty,
to face daunting tasks,
to face clutter—
the spiritual and mental sort
as well as the physical kind.
But until I get out of bed,
I can do nothing—neither evil nor good:
No choices to make,
no people to face.
But I’m getting hungry now
and that fly keeps buzzing
and brushing my nose.
It’s time to get started now,
time to get up,
time to pray,
"Keep my forefinger off that
snooze button!"
Lori Fiechter
September 24, 2001
I didn’t even See
Psalm 10:1, Acts 17:28
I didn’t even see
that You were there;
I was too close to focus
and I didn’t realize
that You are, at times,
The God who hides Himself.
Remind me, Lord, that
when I need to feel Your presence,
to be assured You really care.
When I feel alone and wonder
if You are even there,
You are:
closer than the breath that I take,
closer than the next beat of my heart
So close, and yet so hidden,
I didn’t even see
and I forgot
to just believe.
Lori Fiechter
August 25, 2001
An essay by C.S. Lewis "A sermon and a
meal"
from God in the Dock was the inspiration for this.
Begins at Home
So kind, so kind
to the ones outside
So cruel to the ones
we love.
So gentle and courteous
outside our four walls,
So harsh and rude
within.
I wonder why
we save the best
for those we seldom see.
I wonder why
I save my worst
for those who
live with me?
Lori Fiechter
August 27, 2001
The Hedge has been Breached
(Job 1:10, Isaiah 5:5, Ezekiel 22:30, Luke 13:4,5)
What do we do when
the hedge has been breached;
A hedge we have not
built ourselves?
Does it cause us to ponder,
reflect and repent
or just to sing anthems,
to wave flags and vent
at our enemies?
Do we boast,
"We’ll build the hedge taller,
we are strong, we are right;
We’ll rely on our own strength,
our pride and our might"?
Do we ever look inward
to the idols we cherish?
Do we cry for forgiveness
lest we likewise perish?
What do we do when
the hedge has been breached?
Do we stand in the gap,
stand for Truth when it’s preached
No matter how wounded our pride,
or how unpleasant the message
to the culture outside?
Lori Fiechter
September 25, 2001
The Mighty has Fallen; 9-11-01
The bubble burst,
The fortress, breached.
The unthinkable, thought
And carried out with precision.
Pillars of smoke—an unholy sacrifice:
Rubble and blood and souls of men.
An omen? A warning?
A harbinger of apocalypse
or just one more evil tragedy?
Lost--our bubble of security,
Lost--our faith in peace and safety.
The mighty can fall after all.
The mighty has fallen, has fallen.
You alone are the Rock, Lord,
that can never be shaken;
You alone must be our
strength and foundation,
Our strong tower
that never will fall.
Fix our eyes on You
and not on hate, not on terror.
Let us seek Your face
in repentance and mourning
And then, help us
pick up these pieces.
Lori Fiechter
September 13, 2001
Is there Deja Vu in Heaven?
Is there deja vu in heaven?
Will it feel strangely familiar
amidst all the gold and purity and light?
Is there an expansion of the feeling
expressed down here in
pangs of longing?
Will we recognize the
full-grown plant
of that tiny seed of longing?
Is there deja vu in heaven--
walking in our favorite dream--
realizing for the first time
What it feels like to
be home?
Lori Fiechter
September 20, 2001
The Bench-Warmers
(I Corinthians 12)
The sociable ones fit well
the "body" analogy:
Visible,active, and interacting.
But what of the bench-warmers,
the back-bench bench-warmers?
What of the painfully shy,
the awkward, the wounded ones?
Are they really part of the same Body?
Do we really bestow on them
"more abundant honor"?
Perhaps we take them for granted--
like good digestion or a healthy liver.
You can't shampoo and comb a
liver to make yourself look better.|
And yet, I'd take a bad hair day
over a bad liver day
any day.
lori fiechter
8-25-01
ove to cast out fear,
love to cover sins;
love--stronger than both.
Fears Within
Fears race toward me
like a giant wall of water,
like a tiger, poised to pounce,
like black cloud, to engulf me.
Eyes off! Eyes off the fear!
Send for love--
love to dry a path in the flood,
to close the tiger's mouth and
retract his claws;
love to burst the cloud into
a million prisms of light.
His love, to cast out
my fears.
lori fiechter
8-23-01
Mark 2:21,22
More than a Patch
A patch won't do;
The garment is irreparable.
We need a new garment:
His righteousness.
Not a new law,
not another rule,
not another molt,
but a metamorphosis.
I can't patch up my life,
I can't patch up yours.
But we don't need patches.
We need a transfusion,
a re-creation.
By His blood.
Into His image.
lori fiechter
8-23-01
Taste Grace
"Here, taste this."
--what is it?
"It's grace."
--Grace? I've never had that before. Is it safe?
"Safe? I'm not sure about that.
Grace can be dangerous, even contagious."
--Well, it smells nice; fragrantly fresh.
"Taste it"
--OK, just a nibble.
Wow! This is great! No, it's better than that--it's indescribably delicious!
Why didn't you tell me how good it was?
I ought to sell this stuff. I'd make a mint. How much does it cost?
"You can't sell it."
--What?
"You can't sell it. It's free.
You try to sell it, it stinks like rotten manna."
--Like rotten what?
"Never mind. You can't sell
grace. But you can share it."
--Share it? Yes, I should. It really is too good to keep to myself. I'll share it until I
run out.
"You won't. Loaves and
fishes--remember?"
--What?
"Never mind. But don't forget to share."
lori fiechter
8-3-01
First Job ran away, then he ran back
to God.
What does God have to do to get your attention?
I Run to You
I was running away,
Fingers in my ears;
I didn't want to hear what
You had to tell me.
I was running from fresh air
into heavy staleness
and then I glanced back and saw You.
I saw Your arms outstretched,
Your welcoming smile
I saw only love in Your eyes.
You turned me around,
gave strength to my legs
to run all the way
back to You.
I'm willing to listen now,
Willing to stay;
I do want to hear
what You have to say.
Whatever it is that You
want me to do,
from now on, I'll be running
toward You.
I'll run all the way
back to You.
You're my magnet, Lord
and I run to You.
Lori Fiechter
May 15, 2001
Truth, Straight Up
I don’t have itching ears;
don’t tell me what you think
I want to hear.
Because what I want
is the truth, straight up:
no varnish,
no gilding,
no soft fuzzy edges,
no bubbles to tickle
my nose.
I know truth tastes strong,
smells like horseradish paste
but it clears up the
mud in my mind.
Lori Fiechter
May 10, 2001
It seems any more that any serious "Art" must be controversial, in other words, offensive to those of us who still believe in Biblical standards of decency and truth.
It’s Enough to Make You Blush
(if you remembered how)
Jeremiah 6:15
If there was no one left
who remembered how to blush,
No one left with the passion
to be outraged or shocked,
What would Art do?
Would it be any fun
to push someone’s buttons
if the buttons are rusted,
the batteries dead?
If the standards all have fallen
and there are no rules to break,
If there were no meddlesome Christians
to spoil the fun;
would the end be Utopia,
would it truly be freedom
or just
a new form of slavery?
Lori Fiechter
May 10, 2001
Morning
Joy
I wrestled in prayer all night,
gravel in my mouth,
tongue cleaving, throat parched,
hornets in my gut.
I felt Satan's vice tighten
around my heart,
squeezing, constricting,
a death grip.
Panic welled up,
I cried out to You, Lord--
no answer.
I prayed for Your help--
the pain increased.
Then dawn broke
and Your light pierced
the darkness in my soul.
I shout praises to Yahweh,
Praise to Yeshua.
Yahweh is my life!
Yeshua my hope!
My strength and my joy and my rock!
You cut the web strands
that entangled my soul,
sliced them clean off,
bathed my soul in Your love.
When I was poured out like water,
You gathered me up in your jar.
You gave me confidence,
drowned all my fears,
dried all my tears,
You are my
Joy after mourning.
Lori Fiechter
May 9, 2001
A couple of thoughts: The title of this poem was from C.S. Lewis’ "The Great Divorce" about a mother overly possessive about her deceased son (whom she insists upon seeing as soon as she enters heaven). I was also thinking about an Angry Beavers’ cartoon episode where the beaver brothers were spraying their potent musk scent on their individual possessions so that no one else would use them—or even want to get close. Animals scent their territories; we use less obvious means.
Mine, Mine, Mine!
I put name labels on my books,
subconscious labels on much more.
"Mine, mine, mine",
the labels say:
my kids, my house, my money, my time.
If I could see beneath the "Mine",
I’d see the
"His, His, His"
painted over,
covered up.
But I like the sound of "owner"
though I’m not even a renter,
just a steward,
a trustee
for what He’s loaned to me.
Lori Fiechter
April 6, 2001